


You Don't Know Me at All

by whatabutthole



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Angst, Bilingual!George, F/M, Gay!Ringo, George hates the cat, M/M, McLennon, Modern AU, Ok bye, Shes an asshole, Slow Burn, but ringo fights back, george is a Mega Bitch, habla español, i might add Stu in and have some McLennon Drama bc im Evil and also the Worst, i'll add more tags as we go along don't worry, i'm so sorry for ringo/rory ok forgive me, like really, my poor babies don't get along, oh yeah there's a cat, poor gay ringo, starrison, there will be eventual starrison smut but for now it's just mclennon :(, they're roommates, this is gonna b a wild ride believe me, this is my AU fuckers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-09-27 23:23:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10056731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatabutthole/pseuds/whatabutthole
Summary: University. A chance for young adults to finally spread their wings and a time to embrace freedom. But...in George's case, a time to meet and deal with his (slightly unorganized) roommate. Ringo can't help it, the poor thing. He was never one to be Type A. George catches that right off and does not enjoy it one bit. They argue. A lot. It's not very good. Oh, and there's a cat. George hates that cat.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, hello! This is exciting and new! 
> 
> Welcome to my first multi-chapter fanfic! It's going to be a wild ride so buckle up and get your asses ready.
> 
> This story is Starrison. This story is a Slow Burn. It will contain smut, angst, and fluff. There will be fighting and eventually drug use (nothing super serious, probably like marajuana). There will be sex, both McLennon and Starrison (and some other combos that, unfortunately, I chose to include). 
> 
> George is a temperamental little prick and Ringo just so happens to be on the wrong side of his wrath, the poor little thing. John and Paul love to shag, but they're pretty cute. Whatever. 
> 
> Yes, George is bilingual. Yes, Ringo is gay. This is my AU and I can do what I want with it.
> 
> The cat is an asshole. Like, seriously. Not joking. 
> 
> This will be a rollercoaster. 
> 
> Get ready.
> 
> Aaaaand, here we go.
> 
> (The cat seriously is an asshole and is out to get George, I am convinced)

A lazy sunrise painted the horizon as the car moved steadily eastward. Birds flew across the orange sky, dotting the clouds like freckles. Music played softly behind the anxious and excited thoughts that plagued George's tired mind.

A sigh escaped his slightly scowling mouth, chasing after a cloud of smoke and disappearing into the air. It was about 6:45 in the morning and George was on his way to Sheffield to begin his wonderful adventure at University. In case you didn't catch it, that was heavy sarcasm. George didn't want to go to Uni _at all_.

What George dreaded the most, however, was meeting his roommate. He had taken some bullshit survey on Sheffield's website to match him with the "perfect roommate," which George was _thrilled_ about. Just another person for him to have to deal with.

The survey had asked questions such as, "What type of music do you listen to?" and "What type of environment do you work most efficiently in?" George's personal favorite was, "Do you plan on carrying out sexual activities in your dorm?"

(The answer was yes)

Shoving his cigarette between his lips, George ran a hand through his dark hair and turned up the music that played. The musical stylings of Modest Mouse blared through the speakers. To be frank, George didn't even like Modest Mouse all that much. He preferred things like The Rolling Stones or The Who. He usually wasn't _too_ picky, though.

So George drove on, listening to the monotonous voice of his GPS tell him where exactly to go. The University of Sheffield wasn't very far from Liverpool—barely two hours with light traffic. The drive was nice and scenic, better than the parts around Liverpool where it was muggy and grey most of the time. The scenery almost lifted George's mood a little bit.

 _Almost_.

Two hours later, George was walking to his dorm, holding a bronze colored key tightly in his hand. He was advised to look at his new living quarters for the year before moving in all of the things he had brought along with him. Thankfully, he had already brought most of his belongings the week prior, getting help from his best friends, Paul and John.

George shoved the key into the lock and turned it, bracing himself for whatever was behind the door. George was met with silence at first, but a quiet rustling sound caught his attention. He looked to his left to find a small cat in a pile of tissue paper, shredding and batting at the pieces. While most people would be warmed with the sight of a kitten, annoyance ran through George's veins. Were they even _allowed_ to have pets?

Footsteps resounded in the hallway and George looked up, his eyes meeting the figure of a smaller lad frantically looking for something.

"Where've you gone, you silly cat?" the figure said, seeming to not notice George or the open door he was standing in.

"C'mon, Petunia, you can't be causin' trouble!" The boy sighed and his eyes rested on the cat, finally.

"Ah! There you are, ye sneaky prick," he said and hurried to scoop up the kitten. He cooed at the cat for a second before realizing he wasn't alone. His head snapped up and his wide eyes met George's.

"Holy shit! You're here!"

"I suppose I am," George said and rolled his eyes.

"Er, yeah, sorry about the cat. We actually are allowed to have pets, but, if you need me to, I can keep her confined to my room. She's not very demanding."

"Uh, sure. Just keep her away while I'm getting my stuff. Wouldn't want her running out, would we?"

"No, no, probably not," the lad mumbled.

"Where are my manners? I'm Richard Starkey, but you can call me Ringo or Ritchie. M'not too picky about it."

"George Harrison." George stuck his hand out reluctantly to Ringo and shook the bejeweled hand that met his halfway.

"I'll be finishing up unpacking. You can do whatever you'd like. I'll keep Petunia in my room."

"Thanks," George said and turned out of the door, returning to his car to gather his things. George stepped into an elevator and grabbed his phone, a text from Paul flashing in front of him.

Paul had sent a picture of him and John, Paul obviously sitting in between John's legs, judging from the angle of the picture. They both had wide smiles and Paul was giving a thumbs up.

 _All settled in!_ the text read. A small grin spread on George's face. He began to type a reply, but the elevator doors opened so, instead, he pocketed his phone and stepped out to find his car.

George opened the trunk and grabbed two guitar cases, trying to hold them both with one hand but failing miserably. He huffed, exasperated, and pulled out his phone and pressed on Paul's contact to call him.

"Hey, mate! What's up?" Paul chimed when he picked up.

"Hey, Paul. I, er, need a little help. I cant carry all this shit up by myself."

"Like what?"

"Guitars, my amp, some suitcases. Just...please help?" George was desperate. He really _did not_ want to have to ask Ringo for help; he didn't need his help.

"Hm...alright. John, love!" Paul moved the phone away and called for John. George heard some thumps on the line and waited.

"Johnny, babe, Georgie needs help." Some indistinctive mumbling was heard in the background. Paul sighed dramatically and George could practically _hear_ the eyeroll.

"John, our friend needs us, we have time for that later," Paul scolded. More mumbling was heard and Paul squealed with glee.

"We'll be right over!"

"Thanks," George said and hung up. Now he just had to wait. He sat in the open trunk of his car, playing guitar softly. Luckily, no one was around so he could strum lightly without worrying about anyone giving him attention. He really didn't like to be bothered all that much.

A few minutes later, John and Paul showed up in Paul's car, the two arguing about something. George placed his guitar back in the case and stood, walking to John's window and leaning against the car door. Paul rolled down the window and waved.

"Alright fellas?" George asked, seeing the annoyance on John's face.

"Johnny's upset I wouldn't let him get me into bed since we had to come help you."

"Well, you rudely left me horny and desperate while you went to have a nice lovely chat with Georgie!"

"John, I said we could _later_. This is no time to discuss this."

"Fine, whatever," John huffed and rolled up his window, opening the door and stepping out next to George.

"Alright, Georgie. Lead the way," Paul said and followed George as he walked towards his car. John grabbed the amp and some cables, Paul grabbed all four guitars, somehow managing to carry them, and George grabbed a backpack, a duffle bag, a suitcase, and his ukulele. He shut the trunk and made his way to the elevator, John and Paul right behind him.

"Alright, my roommate is this short guy named Richard. He's kind of all over the place. He's got crap all over the living room and he has a fucking _pet_. I don't know if I can handle a pet. Having a roommate I don't want is bad enough," George groaned as the elevator carried them up the three stories to George's dorm. Paul and John looked at each other and Paul frowned.

"George, you just met the poor bloke," Paul explained as the doors opened to the corridor.

"Give him a chance, eh?"

"I'll give him _three weeks_ , and if he does something to fuck it up, then you can't stop me from complaining." George turned down the hall and made his way towards his dorm room. The door was cracked open, so George pushed it with his foot and was met with quite a sight.

Ringo had several studio lights in the living room and camera equipment was scattered around the floor. Petunia the Dreaded Pet played with a cord hanging from the couch. Ringo heard the door open and looked up with a flustered grin.

"Er, sorry about the mess, George. I'll have it cleaned up soon, don't worry," he said, noticing the look on George's face as he scanned the room. George's head snapped up to meet his gaze.

"Please do. I don't really enjoy...mess."

"Sorry, I'm just...trying to sort stuff. I'm never usually this scattered..." Ringo held a box that read the word "film" in dark letters. The sound of plastic hitting plastic resounded from said object and Ringo breathed out, "Shit," and sighed in defeat.

"Uh, right. My mates are helping me for a few minutes. Don't scare them off." George walked off towards his room, maneuvering around a tripod. Paul and John uttered a quiet "hello" and followed behind George.

The rooms in the dorm were exactly the same size, but George had managed to somehow rearrange the space to where he had optimum capacity in use. His bed was pushed against the far wall with an outlet in reach for charging devices and his desk was at the wall across from the foot of the bed, leaving room for a chair, a small table for his record player, and space for his amp and guitars.

Paul was breathing heavily when he carefully sat down all four guitars on the bed. John looked at him in amusement and something that looked like hunger to George. Paul, unaware of John's eyefucking, leaned against a wall and slid down it, sitting on the ground with his head tilted backward.

"Jesus, George," he panted, "Why do you need so many guitars?"

"I dunno. Why do you have a fuckin' girl face?"

"I just do." Paul shrugged.

"Exactly."

"Touché, my friend. Tou-fucking-ché," Paul giggled. John sat down the amp next to Paul and sat on top of it, smiling down at the boy.

"Alright, we helped dear little Georgie, here, so now can we go fuck in peace?"

"John!" Paul smacked his calf.

"What? It was an honest question!" John defended. Paul stuck his tongue out at John and crossed his arms. George chuckled and went to place his ukulele on his desk along side a few notebooks and textbooks for classes.

"Hey, Georgie, I want to properly meet this Richard bloke," John said and began to pull Paul to his feet.

"Yeah, me too," Paul agreed and nodded, letting himself be lifted by John.

"Go right on ahead. The bloke probably isn't that bad, but if he doesn't get his shit together...we're going to have issues." George sat on the edge of the bed and shook his head.

"George, you just met him. Get to know him! He may be disorganized, but he's probably not a complete arsehole," Paul chided, opening the door to step out. As soon as he had done that, a small "meow" was heard, and the jingle of a collar came into the room.

George's head snapped to the source of the sound, his eyes landing on the small white and orange cat. Paul jumped back in surprise as the kitten lunged for him, its tiny claws digging into his trousers.

"Holy shit!" Paul bent down to the small animal.

"You're a little troublemaker, aren't you?" Paul cooed and rubbed Petunia's head, making her purr.

"Paul, you aren't supposed to befriend it!" George yell-whispered.

"George, it's a cat. It can't do much harm." Paul gave George an exasperated look. George rolled his eyes and picked up the cat, carrying it into the living room where Ringo was still sorting through his box of film.

"I believe this is yours," George said and sat down the kitten in front of Ringo.

"Oh, is she causing trouble? Little rascal, ain't she?" Ringo offered a friendly smile.

"Mhmm. Please tell me she's litter box trained."

"Uh, about that...we're working on it, I swear. I promise I'll clean her accidents up, if she has any."

"I don't doubt you will." George turned and saw Paul and John standing in the doorway. John had a smirk on his face with his arm tight around Paul's waist while Paul looked at George disapprovingly.

"Hello there!" John called and waved when Ringo looked up. George rolled his eyes and moved so John and Paul could see Ringo better.

"Hello. I'm Richard, obviously. You can call me Ritchie or Ringo," Ringo said and stood, holding a hand out to shake John and Paul's.

"I'm John and this is Paul, my boyfriend." John pulled Paul closer to him and grinned proudly.

"I can introduce myself on my own, Johnny." Paul glared at John affectionately and turned to Ringo.

"We're George's mates. I've known him for a while, so if you need guidance on how to deal with him, just let me know. I'm sure I won't be hard to find."

"Paul!" George looked at Paul threateningly.

"Thanks?" Ringo smiled, confused, and nodded his head.

"Sure thing. It was lovely meeting you, but we must be going." Paul smiled one more time at Ringo and was practically drug out of the door by John.

"So, they're actually boyfriends?" Ringo asked after the door had slammed shut.

"Yeah, do you have a problem with that?" George spat, ready to defend his friends.

"Oh, no! Not at all, I—"

"I don't want to hear it. Don't try to interfere with my mates, okay?" George's voice was quiet and almost scared Ringo. Ringo's face dropped when realization set in.

George didn't like him.

"Fine," Ringo said, challenging George's own tone.

"That settles it, then. I'm going back into my room." George turned on his heel and began to mutter underneath his breath.

"Jodidamente desesperado. Va a ser un año largo." Ringo froze when the words met his ears. Was that... _Spanish?_

George didn't pay any attention to Ringo and entered the room, shutting the door loudly. He picked up his ukulele and began to strum absentmindedly. A lot of thoughts ran through his head.

His roommate was nice so why couldn't he make himself like him? Ringo was only trying to be his friend and he had to be a complete arsehole to the man. Yet, George didn't feel like it was his fault for being annoyed at Ringo. There were other things in the back of his mind as well, oh yes.

Before George had embarked on his journey to University, he had gotten into a fight with his father. George had made a snide remark to him about trying to keep from cheating on his mother while he was away which had not settled well with his father. They had gotten into a shouting match which led to George storming out of the house angrily, getting in his car, and driving away.

George and his father didn't have a good relationship. His older brothers were closer to their dad and George was closer to their mother, leaning heavily towards her for most things. Very rarely did George speak to his father in a good nature.

But now he was away from home so _why_ did Ringo bother him so much? He was very disorganized and messy, obviously, and George did not appreciate disorder. Ringo was...different? John and Paul were different, too, but something about Ringo struck the wrong chord with George. George had a suspicious feeling that he would have a tough time getting to like him.

All of a sudden, a loud crash was heard from the living room and George shot up, panicked. A shout was heard and more things fell to the ground.

"Holy fucking shit! Goddamnit, you—" Ringo cried and frantic footsteps were heard, followed by an angry "meow". George opened his door, viewing the scene before him. Ringo ran into the kitchen after a blob of fur and another crash was heard.

"Jesus– shit! Petunia, STOP!" George stepped into the kitchen after Ringo and Petunia came running towards him. He leaned down and caught the cat, lifting her up and holding her out.

"This is going to have to stop and I mean it. I don't mind a cat, but a cat that messes everything up just isn't going to happen. Can't you lock her up in your room?" George asked, his tone making Ringo seethe with anger.

"Yes, I _can_ , actually. I don't need you to tell me what to do. It's my fucking cat and _we_ share this dorm. _You_ don't own it. _That_ , however, is _my cat_." Ringo took Petunia from George and promptly walked to his room, set her down on the carpet, and shut the door.

"There. Happy?" Ringo held his hands out mockingly.

"You don't make the rules around here, George. It's going to be even. I'm not going to put up with you if you're going to be a fucking arsehole to me, alright?"

George stood, silent. Ringo stared expectantly at him, his eyebrows raised.

"Jesus Christ, okay. Whatever. We'll discuss this more later, how about that? Let's just cool down for a bit and talk tomorrow."

"You better not start telling me what to do again. But we can talk. Tomorrow." Ringo turned back around and disappeared into the living room. George sighed and sat down at the kitchen table, placing his head in his hands. He slid his hands down his face and groaned.

How was he going to make it through the year?

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second day of George and Ringo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I meant to have this up earlier (Thursday), but I got caught up with my extracurricular activities and I had no time :(  
> But here I am, and with a new chapter!  
> Also, since this is an AU (and also MY AU), I have made some stuff up about Sheffield, seeing as they do not offer visual arts as a major (unless I didn't research enough).  
> Enjoy!  
> (Damn that fucking cat)

Ringo woke up barely after 8:00 to a soft padding on his chest. He lifted his head to find Petunia kneading the naked flesh, purring contently. Ringo smiled and brought his hand up to scratch her head, but, when he did so, the cat dug her claws into his skin.

"Argh! Fucker!" he exclaimed, making Petunia jump off and run away into the closet.

"Jesus Christ, that _hurt_ , you little devil!" Ringo examined his chest, finding minimal damage, but one place was slowly starting to bleed. He sucked on the tip of his finger to wet it before pressing it to the wound, hissing slightly when it started to burn. Petunia came out of her hiding spot and meowed softly at Ringo.

"Aye, shut up, ye brat." Petunia jumped up onto the bed again, this time curling up in Ringo's lap. Ringo smiled affectionately and stroked her back softly.

"Don't think I'm forgiving you for that, though," he told her as she began to purr. After a few more minutes of petting the cat, Ringo decided he needed to use the bathroom. He lifted Petunia from his lap and exited his room, heading towards the bathroom.

He passed through the hallway, walking past George's door, hearing soft music playing through. Ringo thought nothing of it and continued on. Once he had relieved himself and washed his hands, he began to walk back to his room, however he heard a quiet voice coming from behind George's door. Stopping and leaning close, he tried to listen to what he was saying.

"No sé lo que voy a hacer...¡Ya sabes cómo soy!"

So George _did_ speak Spanish! Ringo shook his head and finally began to walk back into his room. He sat down on the bed when he returned and picked up his phone, seeing a text from his best friend, Maureen.

 _How's the roomie?_ she had sent. Ringo typed back a hasty response.

_Let me call you._

A few seconds later, Maureen had called Ringo herself, her contact popping up on the screen.

"Mo!"

"Ritchie!"

"Good morning, sunshine, how's lovely old Liddypool?"

"Not so lovely, but very old. _Aaaanyways_ , I want to hear about this roommate of yours. Is he hot?"

"He would be if he weren't a complete dick."

"Why do you say that?" Ringo could hear the disappointment in Maureen's voice.

"First of all, he's been trying to push me around. I've got to organize all my stuff, but he comes in and is all, _"I don't like mess, this better go away!"_ and it's so _annoying_ , Mo, I don't think you understand. AND he has the audacity to fucking try and tell me what to do with my goddamn cat! It's so unfair that this bloke, who's probably several years younger than me, saunters in, all _cheekbones_ and long, skinny legs, and tries to order me around like he's in charge!" Ringo ran a hand through his hair, tugging in frustration.

"Ritch, you gotta give him a chance!"

"Easy for you to say," Ringo groaned.

"Ringo, listen to me. You've just met 'im. I bet you don't know a single thing about him! What's his last name?"

"Um...I think it started with an A? No! It was an H. Uh...Herring? That's not right. Whatever. Mo, you've gotta cut me some slack here, babydoll."

"You get no slack, Richard! None! You give this fella a chance and who knows how it'll end up. Hopefully well. Anyways, just give it a few weeks. Get to know the guy, for Christ's sake!"

"Alright, alright, quit pesterin' me. We're going to talk today anyways. We got into an argument last night, already. We agreed to discuss rules and boundaries later, though, so I'm thinking that will ease tension. Maybe. I don't know."

"Good, that's good, Ritchie! I gotta get ready for work soon, anyhow. I'll talk to you later. Text me how your talk goes."

"Okay, Mo. Love ya."

"Love you, too, Rings. Bye-bye."

"Later," and with that, Ringo hung up.

Several hours later, the sound of George's feet padding on the hardwood floor met Ringo's ears. Ringo felt a wave of annoyance wash over him, remembering what happened the day before, but he shook it off and continued to focus on the TV in front of him. The footsteps stopped and Ringo looked up to see a messy-haired George squinting at him.

"Aye, mornin'."

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Mornin'," George said with a huge yawn, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Tired?" Ringo asked with a smile, sitting up from his lying position so George could sit on the couch across from him.

"I guess."

"Hm." Ringo looked back to the TV and sighed, grabbing the remote to change the channel. He heard George yawn again and he looked at him from the corner of his eye. He contemplated saying something, deep conflict going through his mind as he considered the different reactions he could receive. Ringo finally decided to speak.

"Hey, look, George. I'm sorry for blowin' up on you yesterday, I was just stressed from moving and all that. It's hard, ya know?" Ringo turned to face the tired boy across from him.

"Eh, it's alright. I was stressed, too. I'm not usually a complete arse. I would still like to, you know, discuss about ourselves and all that. Start over, in a way."

"Gear. How old are you?"

"Eighteen. You?"

"Twenty-one."

"Twenty-one? Holy shit."

"Hey! M'not old!"

"I didn't say you were! It's just that most people going to Uni are eighteen or nineteen. You just look...really young."

"It's cause m'short, isn't it?" Ringo joked. George opened his mouth to protest, but Ringo chuckled and continued, "I'm kidding. I waited a few years. Wanted to focus on photography and all that. Travelled a bit and gained some more skill before deciding I wanted to actually do something to have a job out of it."

"Hm. So does that mean you're a photography major?"

"I'm majoring in visual arts and minoring in liberal arts. So, in a way, yes."

"I'm most likely going to be doing theology for my major and music and Hispanic studies for my minors."

"Ah, so you _do_ speak Spanish!" Ringo already knew, of course, but he wanted to hear it from George's mouth.

"Yes, yes. Sí, hablo español. Fluently, too."

"Impressive. I took German for a few years, but it didn't really catch on too well."

"Sad."

"Very much so." The two sat in silence for a few seconds before George spoke back up.

"So, uh...tell me about yourself, I guess?"

"Oh, mmm, well...I'm from Liverpool and I was frequently in the hospital as a child so that prevented me from being in school, which is also kind of why I waited a few years to come to Uni. I play the drums and was in a band when I was younger."

"Were you guys any good?"

"Nah, not really. Never could get everyone in one place at one time so we decided to end it. I still like drummin', though."

"Mm. I play guitar and I wasn't in the hospital as a child, but I have two older brothers so I was beat up a lot. I have an older sister, too, but she didn't do much beating. Just yelled at me often."

"Ah, I'm an only child so I didn't get to experience sibling quarrels."

"Consider yourself lucky." George stood from the couch and turned to face Ringo.

"Now, we've had a lovely time getting to know each other, but I feel rather gross right now so I'm gonna go get a shower and all that stuff," George announced and walked off, not waiting around to find out if Ringo had something to say. Ringo sighed and sat back, crossing his arms across his chest. They'd discuss boundaries later, he decided.

Ringo got bored quickly so he decided to go back into his room and see if Maureen was available to talk. He sent a few texts to her, demanding she answer him ASAP, but she didn't answer within a few minutes. Ringo gave up and laid down, sighing to himself. After a few minutes, an idea popped into his head. He remembered an old friend from Liverpool was near Sheffield, so he quickly scrolled through his contacts and smiled when he found what (or who, rather) he was looking for. Ringo clicked on the contact and began typing a message.

_Drinks tonight? On me._

_Of course they're on you, you know I've got no money, Ringo._

_Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll pick you up around 9. See ya, Rory._

_Don't be late, ya bastard._

Ringo smiled to himself and set his phone down.

"Paul, I just don't understand. He blew up last night and then he was all nice to me. It's like...it's like he's bipolar or something!"

"Or you're just an arse."

"Fuck you!"

"It's true! You _were_ being a little rude to the poor bloke."

"Not my fault," George mumbled. He sat on his bed by an open window, angrily smoking a cigarette.

"You just have to talk with him more. What did you learn?"

"He's an only child, he plays drums, and he's a daft twit."

"George!"

"Fine, he's studying visual arts. He's a photographer."

"See, that's neat, ain't it? You like photography!"

"So what? You're acting like I'm supposed to be marrying him."

"You sound like you're being forced to. Honestly, George, you're only living with him for a few months. Why is it so hard to befriend someone?"

"It just _is_ , okay? I don't like sharing space, and especially not with this roommate."

"I still don't see what your problem is. My roommate is just fine!"

"Paul, that's because your roommate can fuck you up the arse twelve different ways."

"Thirteen. But still! Don't judge a book by its cover, Georgie. He's probably super nice and just your type."

"I'm not fucking gay, Paul. You know this."

"That's what I told myself, too, before I found out what that troublemaker Lennon boy could do with that mouth of his."

"I don't want to hear about that."

"Okay, fine. George, just talk to him more. Don't talk to him once and decide you hate him."

"No way."

"George!"

"Okay, okay!"

"That's a good boy. Love ya, Georgie."

"Queer," and before Paul could say anything back, George hung up. He sat against the wall, his cigarette steadily getting shorter with each angry puff.

Eventually, George decided he'd had enough of a smoking break and he crushed the cigarette against the brick wall and left it on the ledge, shutting his window. He hopped down from his bed and pulled on a green t-shirt with a faded picture of a forest he had gotten some years ago on vacation with his family. George's stomach gave a growl and he placed his hands over the rumbly thing, wincing at the feeling.

He wandered into the bathroom to pee and while he was washing his hands, a faint jingling noise met his ears. He stopped and looked down, seeing the cat by his foot. How had he not seen her earlier?

"Aye, don't you try anything, ye prick," George warned the fuzzy thing. Petunia only meowed softly at him and rubbed her face against George's jeans. He smiled softly and crouched down to pet her, holding out a finger for her to sniff. She smelt him for a second before rubbing against his finger. George reached his hand out to rub her head and as he made contact, Petunia reared back and chomped on his finger, her sharp baby teeth digging into the sensitive flesh.

"OUCH!" George cried, retreating his hand to examine the wounded area.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"George?" George froze when he heard his name from outside of the door.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, m'fine, Richard. Yer bastard cat's in here bitin' me finger." George stood and opened the door, Petunia running out between his legs, jingling all the way into Ringo's room.

"Yeah, she tends to be moody." Ringo chuckled, sounding a bit forced. George gave a weak attempt at a laugh.

"Right. We need to discuss...stuff." George faced Ringo and waited for an answer.

"We do, yeah. Boundaries. Rules. The sort."

"Mhmm. I want this to be as painless as possible, please."

"Of course." Ringo turned to walk into the living room and rolled his eyes.

 _Here we go_ , he thought.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A serious discussion and a fight, but at least Ringo's probably gonna get laid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! I am back and on time! How exciting!   
> I'm having so much fun writing this (when I actually make myself write) and I hope you're having just as much fun reading!  
> Thank you for the love and attention because I desire it so much <3

"Where do we start?"

George looked up from his phone and stared at Ringo through his bangs. Ringo was at the stove, waiting for a kettle of water to boil for some tea.

"Don't care."

"Well, you're going to care when you miss something important and I fuck up big time."

"If it's so important, then why don't you start?" George set his phone facedown and crossed his arms. The kettle began to whistle so Ringo took it from the hot eye and turned the stove off.

"Alright." Ringo grabbed two mugs from a cupboard, placed them on the counter, and began to fill them with the hot water. He placed a teabag in each steaming cup.

"How do you take your tea?" Ringo turned to George, raising an eyebrow expectantly. George looked at him carefully and waited before speaking.

"Milk, no sugar." Ringo nodded and pulled the milk from the fridge. He poured a bit into George's before doing the same to his own, but grabbing the sugar from above the stove and spooning some in. He picked up both of the mugs and carried them over to George.

Ringo sat across from George at the table and pulled his laptop from a bag next to him. He opened it and began to type and click the mousepad for a few seconds before looking back up to George.

"Let's be as civilized as possible, alright? Don't want any trouble."

"Sure."

"Now, tell me what your number one rule is."

"I thought you said you would go first?"

"Okay, I'll go first, then. I don't want you to mess with any of my camera equipment without permission." Ringo began typing as he spoke, presumably keeping track of the rules.

"You?"

"Don't invade my privacy." More typing.

"Leave my cat alone."

"Make her leave _me_ alone."

"She's a _cat_. She doesn't exactly comprehend things like a human."

"Keep her in your room."

"Keep that attitude in your room."

"Fuck you."

"We need to finish this."

"Don't touch my things that we aren't supposed to share."

"What does that entail?" Ringo asked as he typed.

"My guitars, my books. Anything in my possession."

"Alright." Ringo typed away and took a sip of his tea. George looked down at his phone, texts from his group chat with John and Paul wildly appearing. He rolled his eyes and turned Do Not Disturb on, silencing the needy boys. John was at the store and Paul was at their apartment, not feeling well. They had, for some reason, decided to use the chat to text, which was irritating George almost as much as Ringo was at that moment.

"Okay, let's see...should we have rules for being in the bathroom?"

"Probably. Like, you can't come in while I'm in there and I won't come in while you're in there."

"Right, so basically if you're brushing your teeth, I can't come in to do the same?"

"Correct."

"Alright." Ringo nodded, typing more.

"I say no sharing clothes. That's a little weird," Ringo said and looked up at George.

"Fine with me. I wouldn't want to wear your clothes anyways."

"Aye, shut it."

"No boundaries for the living room?"

"I'd say that may be too far."

"No sex in the living room."

"No infiltrating dates in the living room."

"Like you'll have any," George mumbled.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, nothin'. I'd just be surprised if you managed to bring someone back here."

"I've been in plenty of relationships."

"Are you in one now?"

"Are _you?_ " George was silent.

"There ya go. I'd keep my mouth _shut_ if I were you, George."

"Don't talk to me like that."

"Then how have you been talking to me?!" Ringo threw his laptop shut and stood abruptly, kicking his chair back.

"You've been nothing but an arsehole the two days I've known you and I really don't like it."

"If you really knew why, you'd understand!"

"Do you care to share, then?!"

"Not everyone has it easy, Richard, so stop playing the victim!"

"I'm not 'playing the victim!' I am the victim! You're treating me like _shit_ and walking all over me like a fucking carpet and I'm going to have none of it!"

"Would you relax?!"

"No! I can't when all you've done is bitch about _every_ fuckin' thing I do!"

"God, don't be such a fucking baby and ease off! You aren't the fucking king of the world!"

"Well, neither are you!" Ringo stared down at George, fuming. George stared back just as intently and stood, approaching Ringo.

"You have no right to tell me I'm being an asshole, when almost my entire life has gone to shit. You don't know my situation, so you can't tell me it's wrong for me to be an arsehole."

"That excuse won't get you far in life. Trust me, I know it won't."

"You don't know anything," George spat.

"I know more than you. I'm older. I've been through a whole lot of shit and I will not be told by some _teenager_ that I don't know anything." Venom dripped from Ringo's voice, sending shivers down George's spine.

"You're a cunt," George said, walking around the table and pushing past Ringo to go to into his room.

"And you're a fucking coward. You don't have to make everyone else feel like shit just because you do. You're not the only one who's got it bad."

"Oh, you have no idea. Do me a favor and fuck off for the rest of the year." George ended his sentence with the slam of a door. Ringo grimaced at the rattling of the dorm and groaned in frustration.

Ringo wandered back into his room, anger surging through his body. He heard furious guitar playing coming from George's room and rolled his eyes when it only got louder. He sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Petunia as she meowed at him and rubbed her head against his leg.

"You're lucky, y'know?" Ringo spoke to the small purring creature.

"You don't have to worry about roommates botherin' ye." Petunia only meowed confusedly and hopped off of the bed. Ringo sighed and picked up his phone, seeing texts from Maureen. He smiled at them and unlocked his phone. He didn't bother texting her back, but called her as soon as he read the messages.

"Ringo!"

"We fought. Worse than last time."

"What happened?" Ringo ran his free hand over his face.

"We just...kept making digs at each other and I shouldn't have encouraged it, but I couldn't stop and we ended up screaming and I'm just...stressed about this whole situation. I thought I'd get something good out of this, but I'm having second thoughts."

"Did you at least set boundaries?"

"Yeah. Won't really be an issue now, since we'll probably be avoiding each other as much as possible."

"Hopefully he won't use them against you."

"Hey, that's a thought."

"Ringo, _no_."

"I'm kidding."

"You better be." Ringo chuckled.

"I dunno, Mo. I'm just worried about the rest of the year. I don't want him to hate me forever and I certainly don't want to hate _him_ forever."

"Ringo, just go get yourself a hot date and get laid, okay? You don't need your roommate to like you as validation."

"I actually am meeting Rory for drinks in a bit."

" _Rory?!_ Ritchie! Didn't you guys go out a few times?"

"No, not really. We were just good friends and still are. I just asked him to hang out."

"You better not fuck _that_ up, Richard, or I swear to God I'll kill you."

"Thanks, Mo," Ringo laughed.

"Anytime. So what time are you meeting him?"

"I said I'd pick him up at 9. I know where his apartment is, I went and visited a couple times when moving in."

"Ringo! You never told me this!"

"It's not like we did anything!"

"Ringo..."

"Okay, fine! Maybe we kissed, but that's not important!"

"Richard!"

"Maureen."

"Ringo, don't fuck it up! I swear!"

"I won't!"

"Love you, Ritchie."

"You, too, Mo-Mo. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye, bye!" Mo chirped and the line went dead. Ringo stood and stretched and walked over to his closet. He had to find something to wear.

A few hours later, Ringo was making a few last minute adjustments to his appearance. He had decided on a grey button down with jeans and white sneakers. He looked himself over in the mirror a few times before deciding he was presentable. Grabbing his car keys and his phone, Ringo made his way to the front door.

"George! I'm leaving and don't know when I'll be back!" Ringo called, letting George know (just in case).

"Piss off!" was the muffled response Ringo received. He rolled his eyes and opened the door, slamming it shut and locking it. He trudged to his car and hopped in, starting it and pulling out to make his way to Rory's apartment.

He arrived at 8:56. Rory was standing outside, smoking a cigarette when he pulled up. Ringo smiled and rolled down his window when he reached Rory's tall figure.

"Hey, stranger."

"Hey there."

"How much are you for the night?"

"Too much for you, ya daft git."

"Yeah, yeah. Hop in." Rory clambered into the car and smiled at Ringo when he was seated.

"Hello, Richard."

"Hello, Alan."

"Shall we get going? I'd hate to be late for the wonderful drink specials."

"We shall. And besides, even if we miss the drinks, we can always come back for a different kind of fun," Ringo said with a wink.

"My, my, you randy dog!" Rory pretended to be shocked.

"What can I say? I'm an animal, love." Ringo growled jokingly and began to drive, laughter filling the air around him and Rory.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is having sex, just not with who it's supposed to be with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Royally Suck, I know. 
> 
> I posted this chapter on Wattpad two weeks ago and I'm just Oh So Lazy and didn't do it here because I didn't want to go through and italicize everything, but...it's inevitable. 
> 
> This is a bit of a filler, really. The only Good Couple having sex in this chapter is John and Paul, but honestly when are the NOT having sex? 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you'll enjoy my shitty creation :)

"I hate him!"

"George, what happened?"

"He's a fucking arsehole, that's what!" George growled from Paul and John's kitchen table. He had stormed out of his dorm soon after Ringo had left to go God-knows-where.

"George, you need to calm down and tell us." Paul sat across from him and spoke in a calm, motherly tone.

"Give me a few minutes," George said from behind a mug of tea. John emerged from the other side of the open refrigerator door with a frown on his face.

"Macca, we're out of milk."

"What? You just bought some today! I think I put it in the back." Paul turned to face his boyfriend, concern overshadowing his delicate features. John peered into the fridge, his eyes squinting.

"God, you're useless without your specs, ain't ya?" Paul sighed, standing to help John. He moved him out of the way and stood with his hands on his hips, an annoyed look crossing his face.

"John, it's— _Johnny, listen to me_ —it's right here," Paul said and reached deep into the fridge to grab the milk, holding for John to attempt to see.

"My hero! What ever shall I do to repay you?" John mocked the voice of a damsel in distress.

"A kiss will be just fine, dear Johnny." Paul grinned as John placed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Nasty. Keep that shit away from me."

"Georgie, it's only natural. It's about time you learned about the birds and the bees," John said and sat next to him, wrapping an arm around his bony shoulders.

"Don't you mean the bees and the bees?" George smirked and raised a bushy brow.

"Aye, don't be cheeky, lad!" John ruffled his hair and removed his arm from George's shoulder.

"Alright, so what's the deal with this Richard lad?" Paul asked, rolling his eyes at John who was preening George's hair.

"He's a stuck up dick and I hate him."

"What happened?"

"We sat down to discuss everything and make some rules and we both were saying stuff and it was just a mess." George sighed and placed his face in his hands, shaking his head.

"What kind of stuff were you saying?" Paul looked up from his laptop.

"Just...mean stuff, y'know? We both did it so it wasn't one-sided, but it really sucks. My temper just got the best of me, I guess."

"Believe me, I deal with temper all the time," Paul said and shot a glare at John. John sheepishly grinned and shrugged, as if saying, "What can ya do?"

"Anyways, are you gonna try to talk to him again?"

"No, probably not. He called me a coward."

"What did you call him?"

"Um..."

"George."

"A cunt."

"George Harrison!"

"Paul, I'm _sorry_ , okay? You would've done it, too, if you were in my situation."

"Please don't throw names about with him. It's bad enough as it is."

"We're probably going to be avoiding each other as much as possible anyways," George huffed and sipped his tea, letting the hot liquid slide down his throat; he always liked the way John made tea.

"It doesn't even matter now. I'm just not going to bother with him."

"George," John spoke up from his new position across the kitchen.

"You can't have a couple of rows with the guy and say you hate him. You need to try and, from what I can see, you _aren't_."

"John, it's not that easy."

"I know it's not. Paul was an annoying little prat before I realized, 'Hey, he's kinda cute'. It's not _supposed_ to be easy."

"I don't plan on being in a relationship with the guy. I'm straight."

"Told meself that before Macca got into my pants."

"You got into mine!" Paul exclaimed, suddenly alert at the mention of their sex-life.

"Aye, and a damn good job I did." Paul blushed furiously and turned back to George after giving his boyfriend a well deserved death-stare.

"You really can't say you hate 'im just yet. Johnny's right. Just let it settle and then get back into things. Offer to buy dinner or study together or something. Change the cat's litter box, for fucks sake!"

"I'm going nowhere near that cat or it's excrements. Nasty." George shuddered.

"Whatever. Just do what you need to do. Don't be a brat."

"Says you." Paul huffed.

"What the fuck, George, you can't—UGH."

"Can we leave it alone, please? I really can't take this anymore."

"Okay, fine. But don't think this is the end of it, cause you've got a big storm comin', mister."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." George rolled his eyes. He stood and grabbed his phone and keys, making his way for the door.

"I'll be off now. I need a drink."

"You can drink here!" John said and pulled a beer from the fridge.

"I need a drink away from the people that chastise me about getting along with my roommate."

"See ya, Georgie," Paul sighed, head in hands at the table.

"Bye."

"Paulie, it's alright."

"I know, Johnny, but I want them to get along!" Paul cried, tears of frustration welling up in his eyes.

"Hey, hey. Don't cry, baby," John said and stepped forward, turning Paul sideways in his chair and kneeling in front of him. Paul lifted his head slightly to meet John's eyes.

"They've known each other _two days_ and they're already going at each other's throats!"

"It'll take time, Paul. Just be patient."

"Look at you, telling _me_ to be patient."

"Talk about a plot twist." John grinned and stood, offering Paul his hands. Paul took them and stood, hugging John tightly around the middle.

"I wanna fuck, Johnny," he blatantly stated with a heart melting pout. John blinked and began to laugh.

"Then fuck we will. Let's go," John said and gestured to the bedroom, slapping Paul's arse and squeezing as he began to walk towards it.

"Ritchie, darlin', when did you start liking me?" Rory slurred, his head lolling on his shoulders, dangerously close to Ringo's own. Ringo giggled delightedly at the drunken man's question, his arm tightening around his waist as he staggered to the left.

"Too long ago," Ringo replied, not really considering the answer or question. The truth was, he didn't really _like_ Rory like that. Sure, Rory was nice, handsome, funny, and charming, but Ringo couldn't envision himself devoting all of his time to Rory. It was just good fun for the time being.

"Awwww, you sweetie! Yer just so charmin', ain't ya?" Rory poked at Ringo's cheeks.

"Could I charm ya into bed?" Ringo's eyes glistened darkly.

"Mmm...maybe," Rory said, suddenly sounding sober. Ringo laughed and opened Rory's apartment door, pushing the man inside and following after him. Rory had Ringo pressed against the door in record time, his hands grabbing and pulling at any article of clothing on Ringo's body that he could reach. Ringo responded immediately and kissed back just as roughly, his fingers digging into Rory's hips.

"You actually wouldn't have ta try ta charm me into bed. You already have," Rory mumbled against Ringo's swollen lips. Ringo smirked and picked Rory up with only slight difficulty, carrying him to his bedroom and setting him on the bed, crawling over him and letting their hips meet. They both let out groans and made to move against each other.

"I'm glad I didn't have to charm ya. Otherwise it'd be hard to get into your pants," Ringo said as he moved down Rory's body to his trousers, opening them and pulling them down. Rory groaned and grabbed a handful of Ringo's hair.

"Well, you're already in 'em. Go ahead." Rory pushed him towards his crotch and threw his head back, waiting.

"Only for you, babe." Ringo winked and ducked his head, enveloping Rory's length in his mouth.

"What's yer name?" George yelled over the music to the pretty blonde sitting next to him.

"Pattie," the girl replied with a giggle, taking a sip of her beer.

"M'George," he told her, smiling sweetly. Pattie blushed and turned away slightly, a beaming smile appearing on her face.

"What brings you here, George?"

"Needed a drink. Wanted to get away from my friends."

"Why's that?"

"Pesterin' me 'bout my roommate. I can't stand 'im so they're trying to...I dunno... _counsel me_ into liking him."

"How come you don't like your roommate?"

"We just don't get along," George said and shook his head, taking a long drink from his pint. They were silent for a little while, but eventually George turned to fully face Pattie.

"Would you like to dance?"

"Oh! Um, sure!" Pattie giggled sheepishly and took the hand George offered to her. She let him lead her out to the dance floor and soon they were moving along to the music around them.

A few hours later, the two collapsed onto the bed, panting and sweating.

"Would you like to go on a proper date sometime?" George glanced over and asked her. Pattie turned onto her side to face him and grinned.

"That would be lovely," she said, reaching up to brush some hair from George's face.

"Perfect." George smiled to himself and closed his eyes, pulling Pattie to his naked chest as they began to fall asleep.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George is responsible for Petunia, despite their rocky relationship. George also may or may not be a bit of a drama queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am offering my sincerest apologies to you lovely, patient people. I swear I will try to do better on updating this fic. School is out in a week and a half and I also have more free time at the end of the day since track season has ended. I'll be writing more during the summer and all that good stuff, so hopefully we can start getting somewhere with this godforsaken thing. Love you all! Thank you for being here :)

Weeks passed on into the end of September and eventually into the first days of October, and George and Ringo still had not said a word to one another. They left passive-aggressive notes everywhere for the other to find, informing that a certain necessity had run out and more was needed. Sometimes the request was ignored (more often by George than Ringo) and left the requester pissed off. Petunia wasn't helping either.

"You fucking cat! Piss off!" George swatted at the animal, trying to get her away from the books he had lying on the kitchen table. Ringo had gone away to Liverpool for a few days to visit his sick mother, leaving a note that it was urgent. George had been very, _very_ reluctant, but Ringo had also said he'd pay George 10 pounds a day for the trouble. So George had agreed, and there he sat, shooing the troublesome cat and taking notes on the Aztecs.

Classes had been going well for both lads. George had, as it turned out, multiple classes with Pattie so he sat next to her in the ones they shared. Often they would study together in the library or at Pattie's dorm (where not a lot of studying would get done).

Nothing too serious was going on between Pattie and George. George liked the girl, but didn't want to start a serious relationship quite yet. Plus, Pattie was not low maintenance. George liked a relaxed, easygoing girl, and Pattie _was_ relaxed, just not as relaxed as he would've liked. So he stuck to the whole "friends-with-benefits" thing.

Ringo's classes weren't as hard as George's, but he was having a slightly rough time in a few of them, mainly business. Ringo was serious about his photography and longed to turn it into a profession and was told many times he needed to take business classes in order to be able to manage a job as such.

Ringo and Rory were seeing each other regularly now. Ringo still wasn't sure about Rory, finding the man to be quite _boring_ at times, but he was a good lay. Rory liked Ringo a lot, but wasn't overbearing when showing affection. Kisses out of nowhere were rare, but plenty of kisses were shared when something rather... _heated_ was going on.

Ringo knew about Pattie and George. He had seen the two on campus occasionally, flirting with each other in a way that made Ringo's insides crawl with something like disgust. George, however, did not know about Rory. George couldn't care less, but Ringo figured George would have figured out something by then, almost a month after their fight.

"I'm going to kill you," George deadpanned as Petunia jumped back onto the table, meowing demandingly, seemingly begging for something. George scowled at the cat before picking her up and putting her back down onto the ground. She immediately ran under the table and next to George's leg, rubbing her face against his pants leg. She had gotten bigger since George had first seen the destructive creature, which meant she could do a whole lot more damage.

"You little fucker, don't act sweet with me. What do you want?" George continued writing notes and nudged the cat away with his foot. Petunia didn't like that and sunk her claws into George's leg, provoking a yelp from him.

"Fuck! What do you need?!" Petunia only looked at him innocently and meowed. George stared at her before remembering that she was a living creature and that she needed food. He sighed loudly and stood, walking into the kitchen to feed her. She ran after him, meowing loudly in excitement. George grabbed the bag of cat food from the counter and scooped some out, leaning to place it inside of her bowl.

"There ya go, fat pig. Eat up." George watched as she began to eat as soon as he stepped away. He shook his head and turned around to continue writing his notes.

"Vete a la mierda con tu gato, Richard. Lo odio." George reclaimed his seat at the table, finishing up his last few notes. He returned to his room soon after, shutting his door and grabbing his beloved Gretsch guitar. He spent a few minutes dusting and tuning it before plugging it into the amp and strumming a few chords.

George began to play an Elvis song (he couldn't remember which one) and let himself relax into the song. The sun was going to go down soon, a soft orange color painting itself across the sky outside of George's window, and George was supposed to pick Pattie up for dinner in an hour. As he played on, his mood darkened and his energy drained, leaving him with a headache. He set his guitar aside as his playing became soft and lazy, knowing he wouldn't be able to continue even half-heartedly.

George stared out the window, feeling drained both emotionally and physically. He didn't know why the sudden fatigue had fallen over him, but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to go out later. He was fine while hanging out with Paul and John earlier in the day, but even the _thought_ of having to drive to get Pattie and to hold conversation and keep her company made his head hurt even worse. So George picked up his phone, clicked on Pattie's number, and called her.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Pattie."

"Georgie! What's up?"

"I hate to do this, but I think we'll have to take a raincheck for tonight."

"How come?"

"M'just not feelin' all too well. Don't wanna have to fuss with bein' sick and all that."

"Aw, I'm sorry, dear. Do you need me to bring anything for you?" Pattie's voice over the phone was sickly sweet, making George yearn to end the call as soon as he possibly could.

"No, no, I'll be alright...just need some rest, I think."

"Oh, okay. I hope you feel better, George."

"Thanks, Pat. I'll let you know when I do want to go out."

"Alrighty. Bye-bye," Pattie chimed and hung up, leaving George in silence. Thank God.

George stared at the wall for a moment before snapping out of his daze, checking the time on his phone. 5:23. He sighed and laid back on his bed, his head falling onto his pillow. George contemplated getting up and making something to eat, but his body seemed to disagree, not moving as he willed it to.

Minutes dragged on slowly and George's eyelids began to weigh heavily, closing and reopening as George fought to stay awake. A vague, panicked thought flashed through George's mind about the lights being on all night and the cat ruining his books, but his worries were pushed from his mind as he fell into a deep slumber, being taken away by the tiredness in his body.

It was around 3:00 in the morning when George awoke with a jerk, sweat covering his body. He glanced out the window, seeing the pitch black sky and street lamps below lighting the sidewalk.

 _Great_ , he thought, _asleep by 5:30 on a fuckin' Friday._

George lifted himself from his bed and peered out into the dark room, peeling his sweaty shirt from his skin. Throwing it aside, he stood and walked into the kitchen. He stood for a moment, his mind blank and his body swaying slightly as he stood still on the linoleum. Suddenly, movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention and he turned to see Petunia on the counter, her head shoved deep into her food bag.

"No! Get out of that!" George cried, lunging for the cat to take her from the bag. She meowed in panic and jumped from the counter, running into Ringo's room. George followed her and shut the door so she was hidden from the rest of the dorm.

"You're going to become obese and die and it's going to be my fault and Richard will kill me." George shook his head and walked into the living room, slumping onto the couch and clicking on the TV with the intent to find a movie to watch. He scrolled through channels until Dazed and Confused caught his eye. He loved that movie.

About halfway through, he felt himself drifting off once again, tiredness lulling him back to sleep. He fought to keep his eyes open and to _finish the movie_ , but soon sleep got the best of him and he was back in his own dream world.

Ringo stepped out of the elevator about half past 8:00, ready to sleep in his own bed. His mum was feeling a lot better after being ill for a few days. Ringo had gone to help his stepdad take care of her while he worked. Elsie had been very glad to see Ringo and was grateful he was helping, but of course Ringo was always willing to help.

He unlocked the door and stepped in, shutting it behind him and setting his bag down on the floor. Ringo walked to the kitchen, seeing a few of George's book on the table and a bag of crisps left out. He rolled his eyes and turned to go into the living room. Ringo didn't anticipate George to be passed out on the couch, drool hanging from the corner of his mouth. Ringo jolted with a frightened squeak, making George awake suddenly and jump up from his awkward position on the couch.

"What?!" George shouted, his droopy, red eyes meeting Ringo's shocked figure.

"I didn't know you would be in here!" Ringo took his hand away from his chest.

"You scared me!"

"I could say the same about you!" George sat back down, throwing his head back onto the couch.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten ye," Ringo apologized. George glanced at him.

"S'fine," he mumbled. Ringo hummed in response and walked from the room, grabbing his bag and poking his head back in.

"Uh, thanks, by the way. For keepin' Petunia. Hope she wasn't too much trouble. I know how she gets."

"Not a problem. Dealt with worse, I suppose." George rubbed at his eyes and Ringo offered him a small smile, disappearing into his room. George could hear him greet the cat after the door shut and he smiled softly to himself. Maybe he and Ringo _could_ get along.

A few weeks later, George discovered his assumption was very, very wrong.

Mid-October rolled around quickly, pushing closer and closer to autumn. George and Ringo weren't ignoring each other anymore, but few words were exchanged when they did chat. A normal conversation usually went something like this:

"Mornin'."

"Alright, George?"

Silence.

"Class this morning?"

"Yeah, gotta be there soon. Bye, Richard."

And that was it. Neither boy minded the lack of communication, having other friends to hang out with and talk to about their daily happenings.

One morning, Ringo's first class had been cancelled so he made himself a small breakfast along with some tea and sat at the table with the intent to catch up on his work. He had been working for no less than twenty minutes when he remembered Petunia needed to be fed and her litter box needed changing. He got up, walked to the counter where her food was kept and scooped some into her bowl, waiting for her to hear and come running. Soon, she did appear and Ringo went to change her litter box. He tied the trash bag and walked outside to throw it down the chute and returned to his schoolwork.

George woke up about 15 minutes after Ringo returned. The sunlight poured in through his window, alerting him that it was morning. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and stretched, yawning loudly. He sat for a moment, wondering why it was so bright outside. He suddenly remembered he had class and frantically grabbed for his phone. 10:30. He had class at 10:15.

Shit.

George shot up, pulled on a shirt that he wasn't sure whether it was clean or not, grabbed a jacket, and slung on some jeans. He yanked his door open and shot into the bathroom, not even bothering to look in the mirror. He grabbed his toothbrush and hastily began to brush his teeth, walking into the kitchen to gather his books while he did.

Ringo heard George open his door loudly, surprising him, and looked up when he came into the kitchen and started throwing stuff into his backpack. He watched with a raised eyebrow, continuing to type effortlessly without looking. George didn't even notice him.

George ran back into the bathroom to spit and rinse his mouth. Once he was done, he returned to the kitchen where he finally saw Ringo.

"Why didn't you wake me up?!" George shrieked.

"What?"

"You knew I had class!"

" _No_ , I didn't!"

"You've only been living with me for two months! You've seen me leave _every morning_ at 9:50. I would've woken you up!"

"No you would not have! Stop trying to guilt trip me," Ringo defended and glared at George. He continued to shove things into his bag.

"Where the fuck are my shoes?" George said to himself and scanned the ground, his eyes searching for his beloved sneakers.

"In the hall." Ringo pointed out of the doorway. George rolled his eyes and grabbed them, sitting down on the ground to tie them onto his feet.

"I cannot _believe_ you. You fucking _knew_ ," he grumbled lowly.

"I swear to God that I did not know."

"You're trying to make me fail. I had a fucking exam today!"

"George, we aren't mortal enemies. I'm not trying to make you fail, stop being so dramatic."

"You're such a fucking arsehole," George said as he stood, snatching his bag from the table.

"Says you! I don't really know what your problem is, but I'm not going to deal with this fucking moodiness that you have. If you're so concerned about missing class then go already." George made his way to the door and stopped as he opened it.

"Fuck you." He turned, mumbling something in Spanish under his breath and slammed the door shut. Ringo shook his head and went back to work, typing away on his laptop.

His phone dinged with a message and he picked it up, Rory's name flashing across his vision.

_Lunch? My treat ;)_

Ringo smiled at the screen and typed a response.

_Only if you help burn off the calories later...if you know what I mean_

_Of course, babe_

Ringo giggled and turned off his phone. He decided he was definitely in need of some time with Rory to take his mind off of George's troublesome temper. He closed his laptop and headed to take a shower to get ready. George was the least of his worries.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated! <3


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